Sick Days
by MurderKarp
Summary: Fluffy little fic about Colin catching the flu, and Damian thinking he's an idiot because of it.


The sound of the ticking clock on the wall was maddening. Usually, the repetitive noise was relaxing. It was a constant, always there when he was not. It was soothing, knowing even if his mind tried to wander, he could focus on the ticking to keep himself together. However, now the noise was making him feel antsy.

He was supposed to meet Damian, but this stupid illness was preventing him from doing so. He felt like he was abandoning his friend by not showing up, but he had no way of contacting the Robin. It was not like they had exchanged phone numbers. There was never a need to, since they were always there on time.

The redhead rolled over, his eyes resting on the clock. Brows knitting together, he focused on the hands. He was late, not that there was any way he would have been able to meet Damian. He pulled the black comforter over his head as he broke into a coughing fit. His chest rumbled with mucus, and his cough was loud. His body shook with the sheer force of his action. The fit slowly stopped, and he was left feeling like a miserable piece of shit.

He closed his eyes, and sniffed. The teenager was irritated. He always met Damian on Saturday afternoons, even if their meetings consisted of them talking about nothing. He let out an irritated groan as he pulled one of his pillows over his head. He wanted that nothing, which was another constant in his life. It was one thing he could look forward to after a long week.

He heard the door click as the knob turned. Colin tossed the pillow aside, and sat up in his bed. His brow rose, his gaze trained on the slowly opening door. His lips parted slightly, and he smiled at Damian as the teenager waltzed into the room.

"You weren't there," the other boy commented. He gave Colin one of his trademark glares as he made his way over to the bed. He took a seat on the edge, as far away from the sick boy as possible. "Who let's themselves get sick?"

Colin chuckled, and gave a shrug. "People who are fenced like cattle," he responded with a smile. "Well, I'm not kidnapped or hurt, so what's your new plan?" The young man's voice was hoarse from all the coughing. The sound made Damian cringe as he peered at the other.

"You're obviously incapable of taking care of yourself," Damian responded dully. A look of disapproval decorated his face. Colin flashed him a lopsided, pitiful grin, one that made Damian's expression grow angrier. Stomach flopping, the Robin pursed his lips. There was something about his friend that made him feel weak, and he did not like that.

Colin fell back onto the pillows behind him. A bright smile turned his lips as his eyes closed. "I'm fine. I'm sure the B-man needs you more than I do," he said in a hushed tone. He swallowed, hoping the coat of saliva would keep his throat from feeling so sore.

Damian's expression darkened. He shot the other teen a glare. He crossed his arms as he rose to his feet. He felt a pang in his chest. He was not needed here, but he wanted to be there. His eyes flickered towards the door, contemplating whether or not he would impose his presence upon the other.

The words had stung. How could he, of all people, not be needed by Colin? He was Colin's best friend, if he was recalling the night correctly. They were telling each other stories about different scars they had, and eventually Colin had confessed that Damian had been the closest friend he had ever had; that Damian was his best friend. Damian had felt the same way about Colin. It was the first time he had actually acknowledged that what he felt was not hate, but now the teenager was beginning to think it was more.

He shook the thoughts from his head. No, he was simply worried over his friend for being stupid enough to get sick. "Have you taken any medication?" Damian finally asked. The anger still visible on his face, he turned.

Colin shook his head. "There's really nothing to do, but wait for it to go away on its own," the redhead told the other. "I'm fine. I can take care of myself, Damian."

Damian did not grace him with a response. He simply whisked himself out of the room, leaving Colin to stare at the open door. His brows knitted together, confusion finally setting in. Did he say something wrong?

The ticking noises of his clock and the wheeze of his breathing were the only sounds that filled the room. He pursed his lips. His breath hitched as he tried to sort out what happened. Damian had left without saying anything before, but he had never seen such anger directed toward him. It almost appeared as if there was some sort of resentment in the expression. The sickly boy gulped. God, he hated himself sometimes.

He would have to apologize for whatever he did whenever he saw Damian again; if he was given the chance to see Damian again. If his friend was as angry as he was assuming, then he knew he would have to go to the Wayne Manor to confront him.

"I'm an idiot," Colin muttered to himself as he closed his eyes.

"You can say that again," Damian grumbled as he shut the door behind him. Colin opened one of his eyes, and glanced over to see Damian strolling over with a small cup full of medicine. "You will drink this," he ordered as he shoved the crimson liquid toward the redhead.

Colin blinked a few times. He inspected the medicine, scrunching his nose as he did. He hated the taste of flu medicine, and he especially hated the after effects. "I'll be fine without-"

"That was not a request," Damian told him, and forced the tiny, plastic cup into Colin's weak hand. The pale boy sighed. He gave a nod, and knocked back the syrupy substance. He about gagged at the after taste, but whatever the medicine was, was already soothing his throat. "You really are an idiot," Damian repeated, as if to make sure it got through Colin's thick skull.

Colin had a grim smile on his face as he nodded in agreement. He put the empty cup on his nightstand before rolling over on the bed. He watched as Damian took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "Thank you," the redhead was quick to mutter as he pulled the comforter around him.

"Tt," Damian snorted. His eyes still reflected a furiousness that Colin could not quite figure out. He chewed on his bottom lip.

"Did I do something wrong?" Colin caught Damian's gaze as soon as the question left his lips. The redhead was not afraid of confrontation, but he did not want to fight with his friend. He did not want to be left all alone. "I'd rather you just tell me what's wrong, rather than be passive aggressive about it," Colin quickly added.

Damian's brow rose. His expression softened, but only slightly. He thought about the question, trying to completely articulate his thoughts. His feelings were a jumbled mess, and he did not want to yell at Colin for the wrong reason, even if his friend was an idiot. He did not want to get into any deep conversation about his muddled feelings, but he did want Colin to know he was very displeased, even if he was not quite sure where the feeling was emanating from.

"I don't quite understand what you are talking about, but I suggest you hold your tongue," the young man finally said with repugnance. His eyes narrowed. There was no point in complicating things further. "I came to check on you, only to find you are sick. If you think I would be pleased with this, then you are a selfish, rotten, senseless cur," he finished. His body tensed as he stared angrily at the light brown flesh that covered his clenched hands.

Colin was shocked by the harshness of his friend's words. His brows knitted together as a sick feeling knotted up in his gut. His heart felt heavy, and his body was beginning to shake. The tone that Damian had taken had sent him over the edge. He had heard the Robin speak bitterly, he had heard everything from malice to sick pleasure when he wanted a response, but Colin had never heard such a high degree of abhorrence tint his words. It hurt, knowing his so called friend could feel such a way. Was this all a game to Damian? Putting him in this nice school, hanging out and laughing at Arkham's wards, was it all just some twisted game to the rich kid?

Colin was ready to rip the other boy apart. He would not put up with such nastiness. "You-" he began, only to be cut off by Damian's lips connecting with his own. The action was rough, and Damian's lips were chapped. It did not feel pleasant, but at the same time it was soothing. However, as soothing as it was, the redhead was still mad.

He pulled away, and threw an arm up to his lips. His cheeks burned bright red. He could not meet Damian's gaze. "Now you're the stupid one," he grumbled. He wanted to punch his friend, and yell at him, but he was at a loss for words.

"I don't hate you, and that is what bothers me. I don't hate you, and now…" Damian shook his head. "Tt," he huffed, unable to even complete the statement. 'Now I'll worry.'

Colin let the words sink in. It took him a few minutes to collect himself, and mull over what had just happened. In some indirect, very Damian-like way…his best friend had just confessed. His blush darkened at the realization of it all. The way the kiss had soothed him, and how Damian's words hurt him more than anyone else's would have. He finally lifted his head to stare into Damian's piercing eyes.

The redhead coughed into a fist as his other hand slowly moved toward the other. Colin took hold of his friend's hand, and gave it a light squeeze. "I won't apologize to you, because you don't deserve one," he began with a small smile. "Just tell me next time, ok? I like you, too," he said with a low, hoarse voice.

Damian's expression did not soften, but the boy nodded. He squeezed Colin's hand, and the two sat in silence. "You are senseless, but you are not a rotten, selfish cur," he grumbled, his voice low. It was as close to an apology as Colin would get, and the redhead was grateful for that. Still mad, but grateful.

"You are still an idiot," Colin taunted, and smiled at his friend.


End file.
